If I’ve ever wondered what the heights of laziness might look like, I believe I reached them this week.
This wasn’t a surprise realisation – I’ve become an expert over time. It takes skill and patience to commit to such a discipline.
I’m a hard worker when it comes to my company – and meticulous about the details – but I see everyday tasks as a challenge. How can I put in minimum effort in order to achieve something, or use the wrong tools for the job simply because they are in closer proximity, rather than make life easy on myself?
Procrastination and laziness kinda go hand-in-hand. I believe I’ve told you before about the cold tap on my bathroom sink being broken for months on end, yet did I pick up the phone to call the plumber? No. I actually did buy the new set of taps and a faucet, but could I really be expected to get them installed? Please! I only have two hands!
It was only when I tired of brushing my teeth and washing my face with searing hot water that I finally relented. In one hour the job was done, and the shiny taps were installed.
“I’ll never leave it this long again!” I announced, revelling in the cold stream of liquid.
Ha.
Now, I appreciate that I’m probably in a small percentage of people that would go to that extreme, but almost everyone has had their lazy moments in life. Consider that TV remote sitting just out of arm’s reach on the couch. Do you: a) Get up and walk over to pick it up?; b) Grab a fork, pen, umbrella … anything that will bridge the distance to reach it and bring it hither?; or c) Just keep watching the history of the British pillar box on PBS?
I’ll wager that most would go with b), probably followed by a), then c) (although getting to the bottom of why they chose that fire-engine red has got to be some fascinating stuff).
I’ll do you another. You need to unscrew something. Do you: a) Pick up the butter knife that’s sitting nearby and give it a whirl, even on a Phillips head screw; or b) Go to your beautifully organised tool shed and get the precise size screwdriver designed to do the job? I’d actually guess that the kind of person trying the butter knife first definitely has screwdrivers in the house, but they are rolling about in a drawer along with a roll of Sellotape and 30,000 packets of ketchup from years of food delivery orders.
Speaking of not-to-be-missed PBS documentaries, I can tell you that the Phillips head screw and screwdriver are named after Henry F. Phillips (1889-1958) who patented the design. Remember me when you’re on ‘Jeopardy!’.
The well-known saying goes, “If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.” Nahhh … what a load of old cobblers. Haven’t we all, at some point, made something do without putting in the effort? Like daisy-chaining 50 extension cords rather than just getting the really long one out of the garage. Or using the light on our phones to find something in the dark when we’ve got at least 12 good quality flashlights in the cupboard.
I’m not saying it always works out, but why spend 15 minutes on something when you can spend two hours? That’s the sheer irony. Laziness actually leads to more energy being expended. Isn’t that one of Einstein’s theories?
I know I’ve told this tale before, but I recall needing to change a tyre years ago, and rather than looking properly for the metal bar needed to raise the jack, I figured a long wooden spoon would do the trick. Thirty minutes later, the flat tyre was barely off the ground, and there were bit of broken wooden spoon scattered everywhere.
There’s also the lazy attitude of finding something that will work temporarily, but then ‘temporarily’ becomes permanently.
I needed something like a 40-watt bulb for my bedroom lamp. All the other lamp bulbs had burned out, so I could no longer cannibalise them to have at least this one light operational. Did I go to the supermarket? No. I simply screwed in whatever I could find in the house, which was an insanely high wattage. Every time I turned it on, it was alien abduction bright. I wouldn’t leave it burning for long, then I’d use my phone light (the flashlights were alllll the way at the other end of the hallway). I swear, that situation continued for months until Lynne – best buddy and housemate – bought me a bulb because she could no longer stand seeing ‘Close Encounter’ beams under my bedroom door. It wasn’t the light that bothered her, it was what it represented. On the plus side, I saved a CUC bill fortune.
Can I really be the only one who has shaved her legs; got into better light in the living room; found a few missed patches; and decided to use the duct tape in the kitchen versus going back to the bathroom to get the razor? I think not.
I have to say that at the time, it worked brilliantly and you could not tell where I had used it … until later than night when bumpy rashes just happened to show up in the exact areas where the tape had been applied.
I had started this article by saying I had only recently reached the heights of laziness, but reading back, I’m not sure I didn’t get there ages ago. Nonetheless, for the record …
On my bed, I have one of those old digital alarm clocks. The type you see in retro horror films, where the person wakes up at the exact same time of the night, every night, indicating something super-ominous.
Y’see, I don’t like waking up and checking the time on my iPhone, because then the screen will distract me, and maybe I’ll start playing Wordle or Plants vs. Zombies. It’s a slippery slope. It’s so easy to wake up, look at the red digital display, and go back to sleep.
I’ve had that clock for as long as I can remember, but after countless accidents knocking it to the floor, it’s starting to malfunction. The electrical wire has come loose somewhere inside, so unless I’m very careful when I move it, the screen goes blank and I get the flashing ‘12:00’. Whenever it happens, I have to reset the time, which means holding down one button while first tapping away at the ‘hour’ button, then the ‘minutes’ button. And just to add some extra challenges into the mix, my cat loves to sleep near it because it’s warm. All she has to do is shove it with her paw, and it’s ‘12:00. 12:00. 12:00’.
Despite the fact that it has the space-age feature of a back-up battery slot, which will keep the clock going if the power goes out (no doubt invented by bosses who got sick and tired of hearing, “I’m late because my alarm didn’t go off”), I’ve never put the battery in. And this thing doesn’t require some 13-volt, five-terminal nightmare that can only be bought on the black market in the Czech Republic. A couple of ‘AA’ Duracells and we’re off to the races. There is Absolutely. No. Excuse.
So, rather than go to some corner shop downtown and buy a replacement clock, or get those batteries, I just reset it 2-3 times in the night, painstakingly pressing this button and that until the reading is correct. (I gave up on the ‘AM/PM’ specification after a while – not worth it.)
I swear, many’s been the time that I’ve woken up, checked my iPhone for the time because the clock is flashing (I know you’re tearing your hair out), done the reset, then watched the cat stretch, hit it, and we’re back to square one.
Seriously, there is no hope for me, save yourselves and learn from what I’m telling you.
In conclusion, just in case you’re wondering what my answer to the question about the TV remote would be, I’ll simply say this: “The original pillar post boxes in the UK were green to blend with the landscape, but people found them difficult to locate, particularly in the smog and fog, so they were repainted red.”